pressed to the tendons straining in his neck. At last, with one last jolt of his pelvis, Romjha let his head fall forward and buried his lips in her hair.
He was still semi-hard and deep inside her. With each small movement of his body, aftershocks of pleasure rippled through her. Time seemed to stand still as they remained wrapped around each other. In unison, their breathing slowed. The sweat on their skin chilled.
Taj felt emptied out, for once too tired to be truly angry, too satiated to be terrified.
Slowly she became aware of the odors of chemicals she stored in the lab, able to differentiate them by scent alone. Over Romjha's shoulder, she glimpsed boxes of fuses, empty metal shells waiting to be filled, bullets, flamethrowers, dynamite—instruments of destruction, all. She might like to think she was a survivalist, but she was as much a part of this blood-madness as Romjha.
What if his brazen plan was able to bring a return of technology, of modern medical care, of living without the constant threat of attack? What if he did achieve peace for all time? Would he be satisfied coming home to Sienna, to a new and simpler life as a gentleman farmer or a shopkeeper, or whatever else men did during peacetime when every breathing moment wasn't taken up by the demands of survival or battle?
Something told her he'd never be satisfied with such a mundane life. He'd never be a man satisfied being tied to a hearthside. He'd always look to the stars and dream.
As if he sensed her escalating unease, he stroked her hair. A shudder ran through the tight muscles in his arms, and he lifted her and eased her to the ground. Her legs wobbled under her weight, and she clung to his forearm with one hand as she pulled her pants over her bare backside with her other.
Romjha said, "We're in your lab." He glanced around, blinking.
"It was the closest open door. Remember?"
"Actually, no."
She'd never seen him this bemused. She quite liked it.
Romjha dipped his head to brush his mouth over hers. His hand slipped under her shirt and cupped her breast, dragging his thumb back and forth over its sensitive tip.
Taj sucked in a breath, her loins heating all over again. Romjha made a soft, pleased growl when her nipple hardened.
"We rushed just now. Haste leaves many loose ends." He spoke quietly against her parted lips. "Let us tie them up in your bed."
She remembered her wobbly legs. "If I can walk there."
His mouth spread, a private smile, and he pressed firm lips to the side of her throat. "Who says you have to?"
Searching for the waistband of his pants, he pulled them up but left his shirt open. Shadows played across his powerful shoulders and chest, rippled over the ridges of his stomach like dark honey. His abs flexed as he buckled his waist belt.
"To your bed," he said then, with finality, and swept her off her feet. Taj wrapped her arms around his neck and let him carry her from the lab.
Chapter Nine
Romjha carried Taj into her room and laid her on the bed, joining her there. The candles had died down, but the chamber was still scented with the fragrance of the rich oils she'd heated.
"It smells good in here." Leaning over her, he nuzzled her neck. She hunched her shoulders and shivered, smiling. "You smell good, too," he said. "You always do."
"I make more than weapons in that lab," she admitted. "Scented oils, infusions, lotions, soaps."
"You'll have to show me."
"I might do more than that," she murmured.
He bent his head and kissed her thoroughly. His shirt was undone. Its fabric fell open, exposing his chest and stomach. She wound her arms around his bare torso. He smelled good, too. Musky and male. Like sweat and sex . . . and her.
When they finally moved apart, she traced the line of his jaw with her finger. "I'm not with Aleq anymore."
"I know," he said.
She pushed up on her elbows. "You do? That's good, I mean. I wouldn't think you'd be here otherwise—
and neither would I—but" —flustered, she narrowed
He was still semi-hard and deep inside her. With each small movement of his body, aftershocks of pleasure rippled through her. Time seemed to stand still as they remained wrapped around each other. In unison, their breathing slowed. The sweat on their skin chilled.
Taj felt emptied out, for once too tired to be truly angry, too satiated to be terrified.
Slowly she became aware of the odors of chemicals she stored in the lab, able to differentiate them by scent alone. Over Romjha's shoulder, she glimpsed boxes of fuses, empty metal shells waiting to be filled, bullets, flamethrowers, dynamite—instruments of destruction, all. She might like to think she was a survivalist, but she was as much a part of this blood-madness as Romjha.
What if his brazen plan was able to bring a return of technology, of modern medical care, of living without the constant threat of attack? What if he did achieve peace for all time? Would he be satisfied coming home to Sienna, to a new and simpler life as a gentleman farmer or a shopkeeper, or whatever else men did during peacetime when every breathing moment wasn't taken up by the demands of survival or battle?
Something told her he'd never be satisfied with such a mundane life. He'd never be a man satisfied being tied to a hearthside. He'd always look to the stars and dream.
As if he sensed her escalating unease, he stroked her hair. A shudder ran through the tight muscles in his arms, and he lifted her and eased her to the ground. Her legs wobbled under her weight, and she clung to his forearm with one hand as she pulled her pants over her bare backside with her other.
Romjha said, "We're in your lab." He glanced around, blinking.
"It was the closest open door. Remember?"
"Actually, no."
She'd never seen him this bemused. She quite liked it.
Romjha dipped his head to brush his mouth over hers. His hand slipped under her shirt and cupped her breast, dragging his thumb back and forth over its sensitive tip.
Taj sucked in a breath, her loins heating all over again. Romjha made a soft, pleased growl when her nipple hardened.
"We rushed just now. Haste leaves many loose ends." He spoke quietly against her parted lips. "Let us tie them up in your bed."
She remembered her wobbly legs. "If I can walk there."
His mouth spread, a private smile, and he pressed firm lips to the side of her throat. "Who says you have to?"
Searching for the waistband of his pants, he pulled them up but left his shirt open. Shadows played across his powerful shoulders and chest, rippled over the ridges of his stomach like dark honey. His abs flexed as he buckled his waist belt.
"To your bed," he said then, with finality, and swept her off her feet. Taj wrapped her arms around his neck and let him carry her from the lab.
Chapter Nine
Romjha carried Taj into her room and laid her on the bed, joining her there. The candles had died down, but the chamber was still scented with the fragrance of the rich oils she'd heated.
"It smells good in here." Leaning over her, he nuzzled her neck. She hunched her shoulders and shivered, smiling. "You smell good, too," he said. "You always do."
"I make more than weapons in that lab," she admitted. "Scented oils, infusions, lotions, soaps."
"You'll have to show me."
"I might do more than that," she murmured.
He bent his head and kissed her thoroughly. His shirt was undone. Its fabric fell open, exposing his chest and stomach. She wound her arms around his bare torso. He smelled good, too. Musky and male. Like sweat and sex . . . and her.
When they finally moved apart, she traced the line of his jaw with her finger. "I'm not with Aleq anymore."
"I know," he said.
She pushed up on her elbows. "You do? That's good, I mean. I wouldn't think you'd be here otherwise—
and neither would I—but" —flustered, she narrowed
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